Faustus Resurrectus Read Online Free PDF Page B

melt to hope. Perfect. “If you’d like to come with me, we can discuss the terms she has suggested I offer you.” He gestured for the man to precede him up the street.
    Brandeis paused. “What is this, some kind of game? She trying to get more money out of me?”
    “I assure you, Mister Brandeis,” Valdes smiled, “this is no game.”

    ***

    Joann had to be at work early the next day, so after dance class and dinner in Tribeca they made their way back to Brooklyn on the Vulcan. Instead of going to her loft, though, Donovan parked outside her building and they strolled to the end of Montague Street, to the Brooklyn Promenade. They held hands as they walked. Below them, cars sped by on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. Across the bay, the skyline of lower Manhattan sparkled with a thousand jewels of unextinguished fluorescent tubes, traffic signals and vehicle headlights. Scant clouds allowed most of the city’s ambient light to escape, casting the outlines of the buildings black against a dark, deep purple sky.
    “Great night, hunh?” She stopped, leaning back on the iron railing as she turned. “Sorry I have to bring it to an end. Now that we have a partial profile of Charming Man off that camera, I’ve got to interview a lot of the shelter workers again.”
    “Somebody has to get the bad guys.” He rested a hand on either side of her. “So Dance House is a date, for at least the next three Wednesdays?”
    “At least? At last . It’s about time we’re doing this. But why now?”
    “School’s over. Now that I’ve got more free time, I’d like to spend it doing something besides writing papers.”
    “You don’t want to pick up more bar shifts, make some more money?”
    “I may have to,” he felt the ring’s box in his pocket, “but not yet. Besides, that’s not what I mean by ‘wisely.’”
    “I hate that you only make good money when you work at night. I miss you.”
    “I wish things were different, but…”
    “I know, baby, I know.” She touched his face, letting her hand linger on his cheek. “We’re building something, and it takes time. I get that. Sometimes, though, the lack of together time thing just sucks.”
    “A lot,” he agreed.
    “Which is why I’m glad we’re doing Dance House.”
    “Yep.” He did a standing push-up, slowly drawing himself closer to her. Her breath trickled out like venting steam. His lips touched hers. “Actually, I have a confession to make. As much as I enjoyed tonight, and look forward to the next few weeks, the free time thing isn’t the only reason I wanted to take dance lessons now.”
    “Okay.” She kissed him back, softly at first. “Then why else?”
    “I want to be able to dance well.” He kissed her harder as he reached into his pocket. “At our wedding.”
    Her eyes flew open.
    The ring attracted every bit of the Manhattan skyline, intensified it, and released it back to the stars. A round, 1.25 carat diamond sat in a platinum cathedral mount, accented by tiny diamonds. The band, also platinum, was squared at the edges, adorned by intricate, unobtrusive engraving.
    “Magical” barely does it justice , he thought.
    Nothing had prepared him for the emotions surging through his body. Now that the moment was here, it was different, infinitely different and better than any scenario he had imagined. He caught his breath, and when he spoke he was surprised at how even his voice was. He got down on one knee.
    “Joann Clery, will you marry me?”
    She blinked in surprise. Heat spread over her skin, flushing it pink. Her eyes became very serious and she examined every inch of his features.
    “Oh my God.”
    She pulled him to his feet. Her entire body shivered and she leaned into his embrace. He held her, feeling her offer herself to him heart and soul, before finally raising her head to meet his eyes.
    “Yes.”
    She wiped away tears, smiled and kissed him fiercely.
    “Let’s go celebrate,” she purred.
    So they did.

FOUR
    PRESSURE